Page 3 of The Sovereign, Part One (The Sovereign Saga #1)

A questioning nature was, without a doubt, a liability, and my parents’ decision to keep Noryn’s truth from me for too long only reinforced my instinct to dig deeper, a habit I never managed to shake.

Lev had always understood this about me, yet he never challenged the policies that, at their core, were thinly veiled vilifications of scrutiny and dissent, one of the few choices he’d made that I struggled to accept.

In his paradoxical way, he welcomed—perhaps even found solace in—my relentless curiosity, recognizing in it a reflection of his own quiet resistance, even if he rarely allowed that resistance to reach the surface.

Lev studied me for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

The conversation shifted, as it always did when we talked too long about my being an outlier. “If you could’ve chosen, would you have preferred a sibling closer in age?”

I shook my head. “No. I liked the gap. It meant that by the time Avaryn was old enough to form memories, I already knew who I was. I could be someone she looked up to, instead of just someone she grew up alongside.”

Lev seemed as if he wanted to dissect that answer, but instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk.

“You know, I find it rather funny. This whole system was built on the Birth Crisis. That’s how Hyperion justified everything—the need for the city-state, for order, efficiency, bioengineering, for Supplicants.

And yet, despite all the advancements, all the carefully designed solutions, the mandate they landed on wasn’t about increasing natural births or improving fertility rates.

Instead, they imposed the requirement that every Sovereign couple must adopt two bioengineered children within ten years of marriage.

It’s almost as if, for all their innovation, the answer still came down to something as simple as forced responsibility, ensuring that every couple bore the weight of rebuilding the population, regardless of whether they were ready or willing. ”

I arched one brow. “You don’t think adoption was a better answer than forced conception?

Adoption was always the more sustainable solution.

Two children ensures stability, enough to preserve humanity, to nurture properly, and to give adequate time and attention.

It was never about restriction, just balance. ”

Lev dismissed me with a curt wave, the sound he made somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “You’re quoting the Civic Codex as if it’s dogma. You’re better than that, Isara. When a society is built on control, every solution is just another method of maintaining it.”

I didn’t blink. “The Civic Codex isn’t just operational philosophy, it’s a foundational charter grounded in The Eight.

It defines every civic structure, every policy architecture we implement, including Protocol One, which strictly prohibits the creation of Supplicants who appear under the age of twenty-five. ”

He didn’t respond, but I pressed.

“That’s not ornamental. It exists to eliminate ambiguity in consent and prevent Supplicant misuse.

It’s forbidden to design innocence to serve desire.

Exploitation isn’t a hypothetical; it’s a statistical eventuality.

If you’re dismissing that, you’re not criticizing policy.

You’re dismantling the ethical spine of Hyperion itself. ”

Lev let out a low chuckle, his mouth tilting up just slightly, as if he were an orator inside the halls of The Forum who’d just stepped into the real debate.

“You think that line was drawn to protect the Supplicant?” He edged closer, eyes glinting—amused, but with the sharpness of someone already ten moves ahead.

“It wasn’t drawn for them , Isara. It was drawn to protect Sovereign—from their own appetites, yes—but more importantly, Hyperion Systems and their stockholders from scandal, when the company was still vying for the creation of our city-state.

The company’s concern was never what the Supplicant might endure; it was what Hyperion couldn’t risk appearing to allow.

Any blemish on their ethics would’ve jeopardized their real objective: legitimacy.

And legitimacy was the only path to building the city-state.

To control, they had to look worthy of it. ”

I tapped my fingers against the armrest of my chair, glancing around.

“There is no surveillance here, Isara. No auditory feeds.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m sure.” Lev’s gaze softened. “I forget sometimes that you grew up guarding your thoughts.”

“Most Sovereign do,” I said.

Lev tilted his head slightly. “You more than most.”

My throat tightened. “I suppose. I…” I sat taller. “I’ll concede your perspective has merit. But it’s difficult to mount a meaningful rebuttal when I’m denied access to the same evidence. It’s not a fair match when I’m citing from public records and you’re drawing from restricted logs.”

Lev grinned, holding his finger against his mouth. He was satisfied with something I’d said, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know which part.

“It’s almost tragic you committed to The Dominion and not The Forum. You would’ve had them on their knees by now.”

We sat with that for a moment. Papa’s presence was the same, silent, but impossible to ignore. Even retired and spending most of his days outside the walls, he lingered in conversations, in the spaces between words.

Lev exhaled, pushing back from the desk. “I don’t want to make you late. You should come around more. I could use someone to keep me in check.”

I smirked. “You mean someone to remind you of the rules so you can break them?”

“Something like that.”

“Isn’t that what Gila is for?”

He waved me away. “She’s acquiescent.”

“And whose doing is that?” she called from her desk, defensive. “Only one of us was designed to follow orders.”

I grinned. “She doesn’t seem overly agreeable to me. Is that colloquialism and linguistic adaption? In a Hiven? Transgressive.”

He winked. “That was most certainly my doing.”

“I heard that, too,” Gila chimed.

Lev had always been a contradiction, someone who understood the necessity of Hyperion’s laws but never quite followed them.

He was careful, though. Calculated. He never did anything to stand out, innocently ignoring rules that we all knew deserved to be broken.

It was a dangerous thing, and yet, I trusted him more than I trusted most.

“I’ll try to visit more,” I said, standing. “The senior advisor of SIS and the CTO spending too much time together would raise questions.”

Lev offered a wry smile, unconcerned. “Can’t have that.”

I nodded to Gila as she tapped the auric interface hovering above her desk, the icons shifting in a ripple of faint orange light. Once she paused to smile at me, I headed into the hall for the Ascens.

Similar in function to what was once known as an elevator, the Hyperion patented Ascens operated with precision, its sleek, cylindrical design lined with bands of tempered luminescence that pulsed gently with each destination selection.

The transparent walls provided an uninterrupted view of the building’s interior architecture, displaying the fluid motion of other Ascens gliding along their designated paths.

With no buttons to press, a simple voice command or biometric scan dictated its course, responding with an almost imperceptible shift in motion.

As I stepped inside, the panels curved shut behind me with a barely audible hiss, and the sensation of movement was so smooth it felt like standing still.

The music playing surrounding me only served to fill the quiet instead of masking the loud, mechanical clanking of the vintage elevators from two centuries before.

I turned for the north wing, steps away from completing the Eidolon phase, the final segment of my Veritas, where I’d choose between two photos of various men, over and over for fifty-two minutes, until AI determined what I found to be most attractive.

The system would present subtle variations: the sharpness of a cheekbone, the prominence of a brow ridge, the width of a mouth.

I would select between eyes that hinted at mystery or warmth, noses that suggested refinement or ruggedness, lips that conveyed fortitude or subtle intensity.

The choices extended beyond mere facial features.

I would refine his height, the proportions of his shoulders to his waist, the way he carried himself: poised like a diplomat, relaxed like an artist, or with the easy command of a soldier.

Even his skin tone could be fine-tuned, adjusting warmth and undertones until it felt familiar, comforting.

Clothing, too, played its part; tailored suits, casual knit sweaters, structured coats draped over broad shoulders, each reflecting a carefully curated aesthetic that appealed to my subconscious preferences.

And then… I’d see him. Maxim, his image materializing in a rotating 3D projection, the final rendering of the Supplicant designed to be my almost-husband.

Considerably less important was the speech I was scheduled to make right after, on the main level of the Enclave building, where I’d talk about all the ways Supplicants had improved society.

It was the same speech I’d given dozens of times in the last year since my promotion.

I could deliver it in my sleep. The statistics, the polished rhetoric, the assurances that Hyperion had perfected the balance between autonomy and assistance.

It was an easy speech, one that left no room for doubt.

Since the integration of Supplicants into our societal framework, Hyperion Proper has recorded a staggering reduction in crime, outperforming even the strongest metrics of pre-Birth Crisis districts.

Violent offenses fell by 78%, and property crimes by 65%, signaling not just a statistical shift but a systemic transformation.

This is largely attributed to the unparalleled protection Supplicants provide to their Sovereign, acting as both deterrents and first-line defenders during criminal incidents.

Additionally, automated transportation services managed by Supplicants result in a 90% decrease in traffic-related accidents, significantly improving public safety.

With fewer external threats and reduced stressors tied to security concerns, Hyperion Proper’s citizens experience a more stable and controlled environment than ever before.

Beyond safety, the presence of Supplicants revolutionizes daily life, leading to a 72% decline in reported stress-related ailments.

With homes kept immaculately clean, gourmet meals waiting at the end of each day, and personalized affection and companionship always available, Sovereign benefit from an unprecedented level of comfort.

Parenting responsibilities are seamlessly shared with Supplicants, ensuring well-adjusted children raised in emotionally enriched environments.

The deep emotional bonds formed between Sovereign and Supplicant also foster a 68% improvement in mental well-being, as measured by Hyperion’s psychological health indexes, redefining the standards of modern fulfillment and happiness.

Cue applause.

And yet, Lev’s words lingered. His quiet defiance, the way he poked at the edges of certainty, made the familiar script in my mind feel thinner, flimsier.

I thought about the way life had changed since Supplicants had become fully integrated—the absence of struggle, of unpredictability.

The numbers were clear. The benefits were undeniable. And still, something unsettled me.

Thinking of Lev’s words, I held my wrist against the reader and the panel slid open. Maybe he was right.

Maybe easier wasn’t always better.